


collected RPF comment ficlets

by honey_wheeler



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt: </p><p> <img/></p>
          </blockquote>





	1. whiskey sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 

She's like a doll, this tiny little jewel, something small and lovely and precious. At least that's what Kit babbles at her when he gets drunk, when the shots that Finn's pressed into his hands one after the other get into his head to make it swim and spin so that he has to sit down, running his hands over her hips in a way he normally doesn't allow himself when they're in public. But now he can't stop his hands, and he can't stop his words, and he must sound so bloody stupid he can't even handle it. 

"Is that why you like me?" she asks with a smile, moving to stand in front of him with one knee insinuated between his own. "Because I'm the only one smaller than you are?"

"Art is smaller," he says stupidly, the slide of his hands over her stomach making her shirt bunch and smooth. He stares at her mouth like it holds some secret. "And Maisie."

"Yes, they do seem like perfect candidates for your attentions," Emilia laughs. "Not at all illegal." She takes his chin in one hand, gives it an affectionate shake. Then she drags her fingers over his shoulder and up to his nape to squeeze the base of his skull in a way he feels in his crotch.

"And Peter," he adds, his eyes fluttering closed as she rubs her fingers over the hair that grows even wilder at the back of his neck. "Peter is legal."

"By all means," she teases. "Let's go find him." But she doesn't move away. The skin at the back of her thighs is excruciatingly soft as he brushes his fingers over it, just under the hem of her skirt. It would be so easy to slide his hands up, to push his fingers under the elastic edge of her pants and sink his fingers into the perfect yield of her arse. To find her where he knows she's hot and ready for him. But he's not that drunk so he doesn't, no matter how he wants to, no matter how he thinks she would welcome it. It's enough to believe that she would. He'd spent so much time mooning over her like a lovesick calf, being able to touch her is already more than he'd thought to hope for.

"I'm sorry. Finn and his vodka have got me stupid."

"I'm rather enjoying it. You're always so reserved. This is a whole new Kit for me." Then she gives him the most wicked smile and he thinks every drop of blood in his body has drained into his cock all at once. "Maybe I'll play a bit." She moves forward to kneel fully on the banquette, her knee pressed right up against his crotch, and he practically goes off like a rocket, his fingers clutching so convulsively on her thighs that he thinks she might have bruises there tomorrow. She rubs against him, her voice turning into a coo. "You like that, lovely boy?"

"Fuck, yes," he breathes.

"Amazing how your face can still look so innocent even after you've had it in my cunt," she muses, and he makes a strangled sound at hearing the word on her lips, sounding crude but somehow still sweet in her soft voice. "That's where you'd like to get your face right now, isn't it, sweet boy?" He can't speak, can only nod and make a sound of assent that turns into a groan when she rubs her thumb along the seam of his lips and pushes it inside. Immediately, he closes his lips around it, sucks at it insistently, tasting whiskey and sour mix and cherry on her skin. Now it's she who can't speak, it's her eyes drifting closed as she tilts her head in response.

"Let's go to yours," she says when her eyes flutter open to fix on his, and it's with no small amount of pride that he notes the shaky edge to the words. "I'll let you practice that Lord's Kissing scene on me."


	2. method

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: _Richard/Oona - He gets a little too excited shooting their love scene. Richard is horrified; Oona is highly amused and does everything in her power to make it worse._

She’s the one who notices it first, which only adds to the horror of it all. It’s mortifying enough that he’s got an erection pressed against his co-worker without being so into her mouth pressed against him – and the rest of her, the tawny, gorgeous, gloriously naked rest of her – that it takes her soft laugh and a breathy, “Is that a broadsword in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” whispered in his ear for him to realize that he’s getting hard against her.

“Oh god,” he groans.

“Gods,” she corrects, pulling back to give him a smile so impish it only makes him harder. Fuck, but she’s gorgeous. “We’re still in character.” She jerks her head at the camera across the room, the crew gathered around it as they get the long shots for the scene.

“I’m sorry, Oona, I didn’t mean- _God_ , I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know you were so method,” she teases not seeming bothered in the slightest. On the contrary, she’s wriggling her hips and smiling so wickedly when he moans and tightens his hands on her hips that it makes him want to flip her beneath him and fuck her until she sees stars. That would surely constitute some sort of workplace harassment on his part, it has to.

“Stop,” he begs, sounding truly pathetic. At this rate he’s going to come in his pants like a barely pubescent boy and he will _never_ hear the end of it from costuming, or from Geth and Kit and Michelle, for that matter.

“Ohh,” she breathes in mock disappointment, ducking close and giving his earlobe a nip that makes his cock twitch embarrassingly. “But I’m finally having a good time.” And really, he has to admit she has a point.


	3. queens high

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit/Emilia. A storm shuts down filming and they end up bored in Kit's trailer, so they come up with way to pass the time. A NAKED way.

She looks better naked than just about anyone Kit has ever known. Not that the women he’s been with haven’t been attractive, but Emilia just seems _born_ to be naked. 

“It _is_ one of my better looks,” she concedes when Kit says so out loud, and he laughs and she does too, and then she takes his hand and curves it over the breast he’s been staring at. She feels pretty good naked too. And it seems only right that he should kiss her once he’s got his hands on her tits – it’s just polite, really – and she tastes as good as she looks and feels, and this is by far the best game of strip poker Kit has ever played.

“I hope it storms every day,” he says fervently, ducking his head to suck at her throat.

“Oh,” she says dreamily once he’s worked his way down and is running his tongue over her breast, “that would be nice.” She catches his hand, though, as he’s dragging it over her hip and tugging at her belt loops with impatient fingers. “You have to play for it if you want to get under the trousers,” she reminds him, and taps the cards still spread facedown between them on the floor. Kit groans.

“I suppose I’ll have to win a hand for the trousers and then another for the underpants beneath,” he grumbles, but she offers him a sly smile.

“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe you only need one hand.” The wink she gives him is truly naughty when combined with her own fingertips ghosting under the waistband of her jeans and flipping open the top button to show more skin with no sign of pants. Kit swallows hard and is glad he at least has his own trousers left, or she would see for herself just how much he wants to win the next round. But then she leans forward and rubs the heel of her palm over his crotch, and he makes a truly embarrassing sound in response. Her brow arches and she purses her lips like she’s pleased with herself. “Or maybe _I_ only need one more hand, hm?”

“I have no idea if I want to win this hand or lose it,” he gasps. She smiles at that and leans back to pick up her cards.

“Aren’t we both winners either way?” she asks.

“Good point,” he says, and reaches for his own cards.


End file.
